You Just Know
by Drinking Acid
Summary: When you look at his face, you just know. Looking at his snarl, his blazing eyes, the blood on his face, and you just know. You're not going to win. Oneshot.


**Title:** _You Just Know_

**Pairings:** _none_

**Warnings:** _gore, violence_

**Author:** _Drinking Acid_

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Naruto_

* * *

Staring at his face, and you just know.

There are a thousand things running though your head, a billion different thoughts and battle scenarios playing themselves out, but even as you think them, they get cast away. Because they aren't going to help against this person. Not with that look on his face; not with that snarl, that blaze in his eyes, the blood dribbling down his face. You just know.

You're not going to win.

It's so obvious you want to laugh at yourself for not seeing it earlier, when you were throwing your weapons at the "silly little boy", laughing at his attempts to kill you. You chalked his small hits to chance, thinking it was through luck that damned boy had even managed to draw your blood.

But you won't win.

There's just no way to combat that look, the look that is so fixed and determined and _angry_ and unfathomably **_vicious_** that it makes you want to run away and hide with your tail between your legs. It's the kind of look a mother bear gives the hunter's trying to kill her cubs and the kind of look that makes the wolves the devils of the night.

**_Hate_**.

Unbound, limitless, violent, thoughtless, loathsome, _hate_.

It's gripping you now, that fear that's been worming it's way through you since you were stupid enough to stop moving. It's suffocating you, drowning you in your own imagination as you start to picture the things this hate-blinded creature wants to do to you. In a panic, you try to get the hell out of there as fast as you can, but the muscles in your legs aren't listening to you and your lungs aren't moving fast enough for you to hold in oxygen.

So now you're stuck, rooted to the ground as your scrambled thoughts try to make your body listen to it, screaming and shouting for you to move but you _can't_. You _can't_ move because you know the moment you do it's all over. It's all over, and you can't do anything to stop it.

He doesn't even pause to laugh at you or spout stinging words; you're not worth the effort. In an instant —just an instant— and you're down, your body open and bleeding out. Your organs are slithering out of you on waves of blood and you're screaming —you're sure it's you screaming. It couldn't be anyone else— because the pain is too much! It's too much for you to handle, to take. Any moment now and you'll be dead, you know, because there's no way you're going to live through this and even if you did, you known you'd just kill yourself anyways.

The nightmares would drive you insane after a while anyway.

He turns his head to look back at you —not his whole body, that would be too much trouble— and his eyes lock with yours for a second. The hate is still there and it's so ugly and horrible and strong, you almost want to laugh again. Because you should have just run.

"Die," he hisses, turning back around to continue his mission, his plight, the hate never once leaving him. Blood was everywhere and you can feel as your heart beats slower and slower and the edges of your vision have already gone dark and your thoughts are so muddled it's a wonder you can even discern what he'd said. You're soaked in your own blood and you can see your organs spilled out in front of you, some of them already detached, and you throw up, watching as your stomach heaves up have digested food remnants.

As your body shuts down, your brain and heart slowing, you smile a little.

You just know when you're not going to win.

You just know.

* * *

**_End_**

Yeah, I'm not too sure where that came from.

I was thinking about Naruto when I first started writing it, but then I thought of Itachi and then Sasuke and then Shikamaru and then Neji, so I really don't know who was killed and who did the killing.

Interpret as you wish.


End file.
